Dark Lovers
by Sienna4
Summary: In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King’s own cousin, has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved.
1. Reunion

Synopsis:   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?  
  
OK guys – this is my first ever fan fiction and my first ever short story so be gentle. Feel free though to offer constructive criticism (plot holes, clichés, weak characters etc). Hope you enjoy it.  
  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.  
  
  
Chapter 1: Reunion 

The night spread ominously across the deserted road. The moonless dark clung to the corners of the dusty rocks, throwing a deep gloom across them.

For the woman riding unseen through the shadows towards the rundown inn, it was a night like all that had come before it. For as far back as her mind could stretch, the nights were always so. She was a warrior of the moon and so her place was with the dark. It came and went but she remained the same - waiting until the other end of the day, when she would once again welcome the shade to its rightful place. The woman, known to herself as Arienel and to others only as the Captain, could not remember any other life, although she felt there must have been one. Nor could she recall if there was anyone she might have known, although she felt they must also have existed. 

For her, this path of death was one she walked alone. 

In the time before forgetting, this would have bothered her. Now she preferred the solitude, though she could not remember why. 

***

The woman sat silently in the corner of the unruly inn, unnoticed by the raucous, inebriated crowd. She had come to meet the sender of the letter now stowed inside her black cloak. Her hooded form melted into the shadows that surrounded her, rendering her faceless and unreadable. A rap of her knuckles on the rotting wood of the table brought over the mead she thirsted for; a wave of the same hand sent the curious barman away. 

Ignoring the penetrating, almost fearful look the barman had thrown her way, Arienel slid her slender fingers into her breast pocket and drew out the letter. 

Twelve midnight the letter had said. At the stroke of the clock, the mysterious owner of the elegant handwriting would meet her here. 

Arienel didn't usually respond to unknown letter writers, preferring instead the silence and anonymity of her assassin's work, but she found herself compelled in this case to make an exception. 

For one thing, it was curiously addressed. It had been specifically addressed to the captain of the Selenar, the legendary warrior assassins of Middle Earth. It had been sent through extremely covert routes, unknown to any except the top order of the Selenar and those whom they served. For another, its origin and purpose was unknown. Her orders were to discover the sender of the missive and bury them. 

Taking a sip of her mead, Arienel settled in to wait. It wouldn't be long now.

***

The clock had just struck twelve, when the hooded man moved into the light of the inn. The woman watched as he moved gracefully through the crowd, stopping only once he reached the bar. She watched as he lent forward and spoke to the barman. He moved like one of the dark cats of the west, she thought as she eyed him from the shadows. He had a feline grace that was both intriguing and slightly threatening. He belonged here almost as much as she did, she thought humourlessly. She watched as the barman pointed to corner in which she sat. 

This then must be the sender of the letter.

Arienel rose silently as the man dropped something into the barman's hands and moved towards the door of the inn. She followed him out of the inn and into the darkness beyond.

***

The woman stepped out into the shadows beyond the light of the inn and stopped, listening keenly to the sounds around her. Although she could not see in the darkness, her hearing told her she was not alone. A sound like a sharp intake of breathe told her the hooded man was somewhere behind her. 

When he moved, it was much quicker than she had expected. 

Warm fingers curled softly around her upper arms as he stepped up behind her. Although she couldn't see his face, the breath on the back of her neck carried with it the scent of the sea and felt disconcertingly familiar. 

"We thought you lost," he breathed into her ear. His hands tightened slightly on her arms. 

"Is it really you?" 

She didn't answer him. Her knife was at his throat before he could register her movement.

He blinked, then inexplicably grinned. "Valraen," he laughed softly. Startling blue eyes danced at her from inside the dark hood. "It _is _you."

"Move and I will slit your throat," the woman stated quietly. "You will tell me who you are."

The man laughed again. "It's me… look…" 

He reached up and softly drew back his hood.

A lesser woman would have been unnerved by the revelation. Long blonde hair was gathered at the sides and fell like silk across his lean back. His face contained a beauty so ethereal that Arienel almost drew in a short breath at the sight. His mouth looked soft for all its masculine contours. His eyes, she realised, as a strange heat moved through her chest, felt warm and familiar.

So engrossed was she in her initial reaction to the stranger that she almost forgot the knife in her hands - until her eyes swept across his ears.

_Elf._

She was furious. Elf magic and her own stupidity had almost undone her. _Of course,_ she thought as her grip on the knife tightened. _ No man could look like that._ She moved the knife closer to his throat.

"Valraen… what…" he murmured, as confusion clouded his eyes.

"I know neither you nor this Valraen," Arienel breathed menacingly, "but you will not fool me so easily _Elf._ I am Selenar and a warrior of the dark. You will tell me why you are here. Who are you?"

"Valraen…" the Elf began. He stopped as the knife moved further into his skin.

"You would do well to mark me," she said. "Speak that name again, and you will die. Move but an inch more, and you will die. You will tell me what I wish to know."

The captain could not have said what it was about this Elf that had disconcerted her so. She was not usually so vulnerable. She felt only that she was in danger and wished to learn from what. 

The Elf seemed to collect himself as a light died in his eyes. 

"My name is Legolas Greenleaf," he stated quietly.

His hands moved like lightening across the woman's vision. 

"I am truly sorry for this."

Arienel felt herself collapsing as a sharp pain hit her temple. 

_That speed is impossible_, she thought vaguely as the blackness hit… _Even for an elf._


	2. An old song

Synopsis:   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?  
  
This Chapter has the tinniest bit of Elvish at the end, which you'll recognise it as part of a poem from the book.  Once again – constructive criticism is welcomed.  
  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.  
  
Chapter 2: An old song 

Legolas gripped his horse's mane more tightly as he looked at the slumped form before him, provoking a reproachful whinny from his loyal stead.  Not for the first time did he wonder what had happened to the woman he had so loved.

That she did not recognise him had become painfully obvious.  He was nevertheless sorry for the violence with which he had been forced to subdue her.  She would wake up with a headache for which, he felt sure, she would not thank him.

Climbing up onto his steed behind her, he pulled her back into his embrace and let himself pause momentarily over her familiar features.  _Age has been kind to her_, he thought, his eyes lingering over the large almond shaped eyes, fringed with the impossibly long lashes that had once so captivated him.  When open they would be a dark shade of violet, although the shadows had not allowed him to gaze upon them properly tonight.  He took in the full locks of her dark, almost black hair, worn much shorter now than in the old days.  The natural waves framed her face.  It suited her he decided.  It highlighted her high cheekbones.  

The only thing unfamiliar was a scar the shape of a crescent moon in the middle of her forehead.  It was tattooed with a silvery white substance that made it glitter strangely in the moonlight.

Valraen … what have they done to you? 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Legolas kicked his horse gently in the flanks.  It would be foolish to linger any longer, he realised.  Although the dark days of the War of the Ring were now just a memory, dangerous and greedy men still existed in the shadowy places of the world.  

He was at least a half-day's ride from Gondor and Aragorn would be eager for news of his long lost cousin.

***

"She remembers nothing?"

"So it would seem."  Legolas moved from the foot of the bed where he was facing his old friend.  "Aragorn… it was as if she had never seen me before.  I had to render her unconscious three times just to get her here."

Aragorn looked down at the unconscious form on the bed next to him.   His cousin looked much as he remembered her, though ten years had passed since their parting.   As children they had been close.  The daughter of his mother's brother, she had been one of the few he could truly call family.  Although she was ten years his junior, she had always been wiser than her years.  Her loss had hit him hard.  

Then, three years after the end of the War of the Ring, they received word that the Selenar – a group thought to have perished with Sauron – was still in operation.  More disturbing was the news that Valraen, the Kings own cousin and long assumed dead, might be its famous and deadly captain.

"If she indeed has no memory of who she is, it would explain much."  Aragorn admitted.  "Such as why she never contacted us.  Valraen would never knowingly have let us believe her dead."

"And yet…" Legolas said bluntly, "She is an assassin."  

"The Valraen I know would never have allowed herself to be drawn willingly into such a group as this." Aragorn persisted.  "There must be a good explanation."

Legolas frowned, his thoughts suddenly clouding.  Turning his back on his old friend, he moved towards the open window. "You weren't there Aragorn," he said. "She would have killed me if she could have.  She _is_ Selenar."

"No Legolas.  She is _Dúnedain_." Aragorn looked knowingly at his friend.  "She is the woman you love."

Legolas didn't answer.  He looked out onto the grounds below and tried to still his chaotic thoughts.  When word had reached them of Valraen's whereabouts he had volunteered immediately to contact her himself, positive that the sight of him would bring her joy and relief.  Now he could remember only the look of hate in her eyes when she had realised him to be an Elf.  It was a look he had thought never to see from her. 

He had hoped when she had woken, that time in his presence would help matters but things had, if possible, only gotten worse and he had been compelled to knock her out twice more before reaching his destination.

He felt sure that if she could have managed it, she would have gladly slit his throat.

"I do not know _who _she is," Legolas said finally.  "But she is not the woman I loved."

With that, he turned and left the room.

***

When Arienel finally woke, it was to a rioting headache.  Alarmed she opened her eyes only to shut them again immediately against the overwhelming pain.

Groaning, she brought her hands up to rest on her hot forehead and tried to focus her disorientated thoughts.  _Think_… she told herself angrily.  _What happened and where are you…_

Images began to flood in sporadically… she was at the inn to find the sender of a letter… there was a man… no…

An Elf.

He had knocked her out.  Vaguely she recalled having gained consciousness at some point on the road and having struggled weakly before the darkness swept in once again.

_I am a fool…_ she thought crossly.  _What they would say if they could see me now.  Arienel, famed Captain of the Selenar, taken down by an Elf._

Gingerly, she opened her eyes again, squinting through the pain at her surroundings.   She needed to escape from wherever she was being held.  It took her some time to accept the fact that she was not, in fact, being held against her will at all.

The room she was in was as impressive as any she had ever found herself in.  _Fit for a king_, she thought, running one hand lightly over the satin sheets that covered her.  The bed she was so comfortably ensconced in covered almost half of the size of the room.  On the far side of the bed was a large satin chair, on which sat a red book.  Across from the chair, large glittering rays of sun streamed in through an open window.

_Her clothes._ Arienel sat up abruptly, paying for it with a sharp pain.  Rubbing her sore temple, she registered the fact that she was not in her own clothes.  Looking down, she saw that she was dressed in a sleeveless shift made of fine white material.  A quick survey of the room confirmed that her own garments were nowhere to be seen, which meant of course that her weapons were also gone.

_Damn, _Arienel thought.  _Damn, damn, damn._

She was not only in a strange and unknown place but also quite helpless.  She resolved immediately that she would not tolerate the situation.  Testing her forehead with soft fingers, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed.   Though the movement made her ill, she stood up very carefully, using the chair as a support.  

When the dizzy spell hit, she was quite unprepared and found herself collapsing unceremoniously onto the wooden floor.

"Need some help?" asked a deeply amused voice from above her.

Clutching a now bruised hand, Arienel looked up.  Momentarily dazzled by the white light that streamed in from the window and covered the man's face, she didn't respond.  She could see however that he wore a wide smile and a crown.

"I could assist you if you require it."

Arienel frowned up at the grinning King. "I do not require it," she snapped, attempting bravely to stand.  "What I require is my clothes and weapons.  You will bring them to me at once." 

Of all the responses she expected, the loud and sudden sound of laughter was not one.

"By God cousin, how I've missed you!" he said, grinning largely. "You haven't changed a bit."

And with that he stepped forward and lifted a shaky Arienel into his arms.  

Arienel had no memory of ever having been embraced thus.  It frightened her, quite against her reason and nothing had ever frightened the Captain of the Selenar.   She pushed the man away angrily. 

"Had I my blade, you would have paid for that with your life," she gasped.

The man's grin faded.  "So Legolas was right," he said sadly.  "You do not remember me… Valraen."

An angry silence greeted his words.  "There is nothing to remember," she snarled.  "I am not this Valraen.  I am Arienel…"  

She clasped the man's robes as another wave of sickness hit.  "I am …"  

But before she could finish the thought as she found herself swept up and deposited once more on the bed.

"You are still disorientated.  You need rest…"

Arienel tried to protest but blackness was gathering again at the edges of her vision.  Later she would only vaguely recall the melodic voice that began to sing softly as she fell into a dark and dream-filled sleep.

_Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen,_

_Yéni__ únótimë ve rámar aldaron!_

_Yéni__ ve lintë yuldar avánier_

_Mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva…  
  
Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,_

_Long years numberless as the wings of trees!_

_The years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead _

_In the lofty halls beyond the West…  
  
(LOTR – ROTK, pp 368)_

***


	3. To sleep, perchance to dream

Synopsis:   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?  
  
This chapter is considerably shorter, but I wanted to get it up.  Longer chapters coming.  Please review! All comments welcome (including constructive criticism).  
  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory. Chapter 3: To sleep, perchance to dream… 

Aragorn gazed sadly at the unconscious form of his cousin.   He understood now his old friend's reaction.  It could not have been easy for the Elf.   He remembered clearly the sorrow and heartbreak they all had felt at Valraen's disappearance but none more so than Legolas.  Something in his friend had died that day and Legolas had never again favoured another woman, preferring instead the easy camaraderie of men.

When they learnt that Valraen might be alive, a light had come to Legolas' face such as had not been seen in a decade.  Even Gimli, who knew nothing of Valraen, had commented on it.

"Well lad," he had chuckled, "Who'd have thought you'd get so fired up over a girl.  Had we known, we would have set you in front of an army of women and not an army of orcs!"  That had caused Legolas to scowl but even Gimli's customary teasing could not dim his delight.

What a difference a week had made, Aragorn thought sadly.  _The truth must be uncovered_, he realised, _else__ I may never see him smile again._

***

"Mae govanen Legolas…. amin nowe utua lle sinome …"   
Startled by one he had not heard approaching, Legolas turned from his silent contemplation.

"Arwen," he nodded.  "Sut naa lle?"

"Come now, mellonamin," she said good-naturedly. "Is that any way to greet an old friend."

"Amin  hiraetha, Arwen…" he said quietly, "I am not good company tonight."  

Looking away from the sympathy he saw in her eyes, he turned his gaze once more to the stars.

Arwen sat next to the hooded figure where he sat by one of the many golden red trees that now graced the city.  Legolas himself had overseen their planting, holding true to his word that he would see more gardens in Minas Tirith.  Wrapping her cloak around her knees to keep out the chilly air, she watched him thoughtfully.

"You are in pain my friend," she said. "I would ease it if I could.  Will you not share your thoughts with me? Or if not, perhaps I can sit with you awhile and ease your loneliness."

Legolas looked at her intently.

"How do you do it, Arwen?  How do you live each day knowing what you will one day lose?"

Arwen paled but did not flinch.  "It was the choice I made," she explained.  " To taste both the sweetness and bitterness of mortal life.  And it is all the sweeter for the bitterness that will follow."

Legolas looked away.

"Legolas… look at me.  I am happy now.  I am loved _now_.  Death is but the other side of life.  Loss is but the companion to discovery.  Where one is, the other must follow."  

"She is not yet lost, mellonamin."she said, touching his hand gently.  "There is still hope."

Legolas looked down at the hands resting softly on his.   Sighing, he closed his eyes.  

"I am sorry Arwen… amin n'elea ta…"

Removing his hands almost apologetically, he rose to his feet and bowed his head respectfully to the Queen.  
"It is late and I must return to the forest where I belong," Legolas said quietly. 

"Quel du, Arwenamin." And with that he turned and disappeared into the night.

***

_The little girl lifted her small sword high._

_"Aragorn!__ Aragorn! Amin ume ta, Aragorn!"_

_"Well done little cousin…" The young man laughed, lifting her onto his shoulders. "I knew you could do it. All hail Valraen," he said "Slayer of orcs! Conqueror of goblins!"_

_He twirled her around._

_"Watch who you call a goblin!" said an amused voice, rising from his place on the ground. _

_"You're a goblin," she giggled dizzily.  "Cardolan's a goblin Aragorn!"_

_"Yes…" said Aragorn mischievously. "And quite an ugly one at that."_

_Cardolan__ laughed.  "Bested by an eight year old…." he grinned.  "How will I ever live it down?  We'll have to watch this one Aragorn.  In a few years, she'll be able to defeat even the Prince of Mirkwood."_

_"What shall wecall you aratoamin?" Aragorn asked playfully as he set her on the ground next to his friend.  "Belger? Astalder?"_

_"Arienel…" the girl announced.  "I like that name.  Yes… I shall be Arienel…"_

***

Elvish/ English translation 

(my thanks to The Grey Company – www.grey-company.org)

Mae govanen = Well met  
Amin nowe utua lle sinome = I thought to find you here  
Sut naa lle? = How are you?  
Mellonamin = My friend  
Amin  hiraetha = I'm sorry  
Amin n'elea ta = I do not see it  
Quel du, Arwenamin = Good night, my lady  
Amin ume ta = I did it  
Aratoamin = My champion  
Belger = Mighty one  
Astalder = Valiant one


	4. Awakenings

**Synopsis:**   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?  
  
OK… I sat down for two and a half hours straight and got Chapter 4 done.  Its two o'clock in the morning here in Oz and so I'm off to sleep… but I hope you like it.  Please review… all comments welcome (as long as they're constructive).  
  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.****

**Chapter 4: Awakenings**

_You shall call me… Arienel…_

Arienel woke with a fright as the last remnants of the dream slipped slowly from her mind.  There had been a boy.  Someone that had been very important to her.  Frustrated, she tried vainly to remember as the images faded into a hazy mist. 

This was the first time she could ever remember having a dream.  _You know better than most why the Selenar do not dream_, she heard a little voice say.  _You don't want to remember.  You know how dangerous it is._  

She recalled the tales told of Selenar driven mad by dreams of their victims.  Dreams, it was said, that once seen could never be erased from

the mind's eye.  So they were trained to forget and they were taught to discard; not just their dreams but anything that tied them to the world.  Most Selenar preferred it that way, Arienel most of all.

So why then did she feel this dream to be so important?  Why did the thought of forgetting now fill her with such a sense of loss?

It was this place, she decided angrily.  It was the way the King Elessar had hugged her.  For she knew now where she must be.  She had seen the Elfstone.  She knew about the King of Gondor.  His victory over the Lord Sauron had made the life of the Selenar very hard indeed.  Although they had survived, they existed now only in the shadow of their former glory.

It was the Elf she decided; the way he had looked at her and the fact that she could not forget it.  

_Why _ could she not forget?

_I hate them both_, she thought.  But why should that be so?  The Selenar did not feel anything so strong as hate.  The Selenar did not feel at all.  

She would think about this later, much later.  She felt a deep desire to escape from this prison they had somehow trapped her in and to return to familiar ground.  She wished for that very much.  Later, when she was sure of her grounding once more, she would think about the irrational reactions this situation had prompted, process them and discard them as needed.

For now, she needed to make good her escape.  Her head still felt light, but the severe pain had receded.  She would not find herself on the floor again, of this she was certain. 

Arienel slipped out of bed, shivering slightly as her bare feet touched the cold floor.  _Pull yourself together_, she told herself sternly, _THINK_.

She needed clothes and weapons.  Both of these she could obtain.  There was bound to be a guard somewhere nearby.  If this Valraen was as important to them as they pretended, they would not have left her room completely unprotected.  She would simply slip behind the ill-fated man and… _crack_… clothes and weapons.

Satisfied that she was once again in full possession of her faculties, she moved towards the door.  It was locked, as she had anticipated.  _So_, she thought caustically, _they do not trust this Valraen after all._  They did not know the Captain of the Selenar, however.  She did not rise to head of her order without being able to escape traps.  There wasn't a door that existed that Arienel could not unlock, with or without a key.   Grinning humourlessly, she checked the lock and frowned abruptly at what she saw there.  This was not a lock she had seen before.  Only one explanation presented itself to Arienel's mind, and that was impossible.  Dwarves did not mix with the likes of men and elves, despite the old alliances.  Without her tools, she had no hope of discovering the secrets to this lock.

Thrown, but not defeated, Arienel moved to the window at the other side of the room.   She slid her fingers between the shutters and pushed.  A mild breeze blew in as they swung open.  Leaning out she could see a small ledge below running down the length of the outer wall.  The ledge itself  then dropped about three feet to the courtyard below.

Arienel grabbed hold of the top of the window and lifted herself up.  She was in the process of lowering one leg onto the ledge outside, despite the danger of the drop, when another quite unprompted thought occurred to her.

_You have panicked too soon, dear Captain and you have been blinded to what stares you in the face._  _You will never have this opportunity again._

The King.  She was in the palace of the King of Gondor… and he had called her cousin.  

Arienel swore softly as she lifted herself into the frame of the window once more and dropped soundlessly into the room.  Her mission had been to find the sender of the letter, discover their purpose and then bury them.  She had not completed her mission.

What's more, if the Master got word that she had been in a position to infiltrate the inner court of the King of Gondor and that she had tucked tail and run, her life would be forfeit.

She _could not _leave, regardless of whether she wanted to.  Swallowing a feeling that felt strangely like foreboding and relief mixed together, Arienel slipped back into bed.

_I will wait_, she decided.  _I will plan…_

… _and__ when they step back through that door, I'll be ready for them._

***

Legolas gazed disbelievingly at the red book Aragorn had placed in his hands.  "This cannot be," he whispered.  "Aragorn, you told me this was lost."  

"Forgive me, mellonamin," the King responded apologetically. "I would have not brought it out now, except that I thought it may help Valraen to remember."

Legolas looked up at his friend angrily.

Refusing to yield to his friend's cold stare, Aragorn walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Legolas, I know Valraen's loss hurt you deeply.  At first, I thought this book, filled with the images and words my cousin had written for you, would bring you solace.  But it did not."  Aragorn sighed.

"Instead I saw you draw, day by day, more and more inward, until I feared that you would forsake life all together.  I was afraid for you."

He looked at his friend pleadingly.  "Believe me…" he said.  "I would not have taken it, had I not thought it for the best."

"For the best?!" Legolas stepped back from his friend's touch.  

"King or not," he said with a quiet rage,  "You had NO right!"

"This book," Legolas said angrily, "Contains the last remnants of the woman I love.  Even now, that she is found, it is all that remains of our love.  Had I come between you and Arwen in such a fashion, our friendship would not have survived."

Aragorn flinched as he registered the truth of these words. __

"Legolas…" he began edgily.

Not responding, Legolas turned to leave.  He came to the exit and stopped, placing a hand tentatively on the frame of the doorway.  

"Did she remember?" he asked softly, not looking back.

"She did not." Aragorn replied watching his friend's back tense at his words.  "Amin hiraetha, mellonamin."

After hesitating for a moment, Legolas acknowledged this with the barest of nods and with that disappeared, leaving the King to his chaotic thoughts.

***

Much later, Legolas sat still and thoughtful beneath the shade of his favourite tree.

Opening the book to the first page, he ran his fingers tenderly over the fine handwriting.

_Ten a' maelamin… _For my beloved… 

Closing his eyes, Legolas recalled the day she gave him the book… and the day he lost her forever.

_"Legolas!__  Manke naa lle?!  Come now, my Prince, I know you are up there  somewhere.  I can hear you breathing."_

_A cheeky laugh sounded from directly below his feet.  "I may not have Elvish sight, but I am very good of hearing."_

_"Come, I have a present for you,"  the tinkling sound of her laughter filled the forest.  "I promise you will like it."_

_Legolas__ smiled widely as he moved from branch to branch, evading her seeking eyes.  _

_"Well a'maelamin… you know better than any how poorly I climb trees, but you leave me with no choice."_

_"Do I not?" Legolas whispered huskily in her ear from where he had dropped silently behind her._

_She had jumped at least a foot high and then they had collapsed together onto the forest floor in peals of laughter._

_Much later, after their laughter was spent and their hunger for each other satisfied, she had shown him the book._

_"This if for you," she had said, much more solemnly than was usual. _

_Looking questioningly at her anxious face, he had taken the book from her and opened it up to the first page._

_Ten a'maelamin…__ For my beloved…_

_Smiling at the her sudden stillness, he turned to the next page.  The smile faded from his face. A picture of him, in such beautiful colours and with such skill that it seemed almost alive._

_He looked at her in awe, thinking to compliment her on her skill but she had simply shaken her head and had said quietly, "No… there's more…"_

_Legolas__ turned the page again.  This time a poem.  The next page, a painting of the falls where they had first met.  The next, a letter that she had written to him on the day of their first parting, when he had returned to Mirkwood and she had gone with Aragorn to Rivendell.  A letter she had never sent._

_And there was more – paintings, poems, letters, thoughts.  Even the first flower he had given her, pressed  reverently into the pages._

_"Memories…" she had told him.  "Of all our moments together… of our love… for when I am no longer with you… a'maelamin…"_

_Only after he had felt the tears in her eyes trace paths down his cheek had Legolas realised that he was weeping._

_"Lle naa mela en' coiamin…" he had said, "And you will always be with me." _

It was the last time he saw her.

***

Elvish translation c/- the Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)

Mellonamin = my friend

Amin hiraetha = I am sorry

Manke naa lle = Where are you

A'maelamin = My beloved

Lle naa mela en'coiamin = You are the love of my life


	5. The road to redemption

**Synopsis:**   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?  
  
Sorry for taking awhile to update.  Hope you enjoy this chapter.  I  
  
**Legal Stuff –** All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.  
  
****

**Chapter 5:  The road to redemption**

"Where is he?" The booming voice echoed through the tall corridor.  "Where's the weeping Elf?"

Aragorn grinned broadly at the short figure bounding purposefully towards him.  "Gimli," he laughed.  "I should have known."  Closing the distance between them, he clasped his friend by the shoulder.   "When Arwen said she had a plan, I did not imagine it would be you."

"It's not only a beautiful but a smart wife you've got there laddy," said the grinning Dwarf, thumping the King on the chest.  "Never trust a man to do a dwarf's job."

"I'm glad you're here Gimli, my friend." Aragorn laughed.  "You have been sorely missed."

A wide smile glimmered through the dwarf's beard.  "There'll be plenty of time to talk of my many talents lad," he said.  "Feed me first and then let us deal with our sad friend together."

**

Much later, when his belly was full and his thirst quenched, Gimli leaned back in his chair and looked soberly at the King.  "So," he said.  "Is it that serious?"

"He has withdrawn completely," Aragorn replied.  "He talks to no-one.  Especially not to me. I fear I did more damage than good Gimli, when I tried to spare him the pain."

"And this woman, this Valraen… she remembers nothing?"

"Not a thing," said the King sadly.  "But it is not that which pains him most."

Gimli looked at him questioningly.

"It is the hatred he sees in her eyes," Aragorn said as he brought a tired hand to his forehead.  "It is the hatred we all see."

Gimli looked knowingly at his friend.  "And how are you doing laddy?" he asked.

Aragorn sighed.  "As well as can be expected Gimli.  But then, I have Arwen."

Gimli nodded.  "So… I am to cheer up the Elf.  What will you do?"

Aragorn paused.  "What has to be done.  I must either reclaim my cousin or restrain her but she cannot be allowed to return to the Selenar."

Gimli stood up to leave. "I'll find Legolas," he said.  "I think its best if you leave him to me."

"Gimli," Aragorn said as he walked his friend towards the door.  "If I should fail and my cousin cannot be reclaimed…"

The sentence hung tensely in the air between them.  Gimli nodded.  "I'll do my best lad," he said.

**

Arienel was awake when the Queen entered her room.  It was the first person other than the maid that she had seen in almost a week.  In that time, she had not been allowed to venture outside of her room other than to attend to her private needs.  Even then she had been accompanied.  Had she not exercised all the patience Selenar were famous for, she felt she would have gone mad.

Her fortitude had paid off however and had presented itself in the form of none other than the Elf Queen of Gondor.

Arienel forced the dislike from her face as Arwen approached her bed.

"Quel amrun Valraen," Arwen said.  "I am Arwen.  I have come to see how you are faring."

"As well as can be expected," Arienel ground out, forcing herself not to react to the name.  "When will I be allowed to leave this room?"

"When you are well Valraen," Arwen said, placing a soft hand on Arienel's cheek.  "Are you comfortable mellonamin?  Is there anything you need?"

Arienel suppressed with difficulty the angry growl that was fighting its way past her lips and tried not to flinch.  "I am very comfortable."  She forced a smile.  "I need only some air and to stretch my legs."

Arwen smiled in understanding but said nothing.

"Could I perhaps see the King again?" Arienel tried again.  "He is my cousin isn't he..."

Arwen's smile faded as she stepped back.  "I have brought you some clothes Valraen," she said, placing them on the chair next to her bed.  "They should fit you.  We always were the same size." She grinned at the pale face beneath her.

"You are welcome to walk anywhere within the grounds around the palace.  I am afraid however that I cannot let you venture outside of them.  I am sure you understand Valraen.  It's for your own protection."

Arienel closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath.  "The King…" she repeated.  "When will I see the King?"

"In time." Arwen said quietly.  "In time Valraen… but first you need your rest."

Arienel felt the last shreds of her patience snapping.  "My name…" she hissed, "is Arienel…"

"Is it?" the Queen whispered, gazing at her with a strange expression.  "Is it indeed?  Forgive me mellonamin… amin rinuva tanya."

She placed a soft kiss on Arienel's forehead and smiling turned away.

"Amin entuluva tul're… Valraen…"

Watching Arwen leave, Arienel thumped her hand against the bed and let out a soft cry of frustration.  Only later did she realise that she had understood every word the Queen had said.

**

Elvish translation c/- the Grey Company (www.grey-company.org) 

Quel amrun = Good morning

Amin rinuva tanya = I will remember that

Mellonamin = My friend

Amin entuluva tul're = I will return tomorrow


	6. The long way home

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Thank you guys so much for reviewing.  It's the juice that makes my motor run… ;).  Here is chapter 6.  Hope you enjoy it.  Please let me know if you think the story is going too quickly/ slowly, there are loop holes, mix-ups or any other shenanigans.  I've tried to keep the characters fairly true to the performances you would be familiar with from the movies.  All reviews welcome as long as they are constructive.  (No flaming please!)  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.****

**Chapter 6: The long way home**

_If you would love me evermore_

In Ithilien, Legolas sat in the branches of his favourite tree reading a red book.  The rays of the afternoon sun shimmered intermittently through the leaves onto the words written there, rendering them alternately gold and black.

_Then like an eagle I would soar_

He traced the prose with his fingers, feeling the pain in his heart sharpen and float to the front of his consciousness.  

_I'd dance upon an open shore_

Closing his eyes he whispered the words to himself almost meditatively, feeling them focus the pain behind his eyes and slow down his breathing.__

_If you would love me evermore_

_If you would love me evermore… _

"Fast asleep in the middle of the day?" came a great vociferous cry.  "Are you a princeling or a lout?"

Waking violently from his reverie, Legolas jumped.  As he grabbed onto a nearby branch to stop himself from falling clumsily to the ground, he closed the book in his hand and looked down.  

"Gimli," he glowered irritably. "I should have known."

"And I'm very pleased to see you too lad," Gimli grinned.  "Are you coming down or do I have to force you?  I didn't come all the way from the Glittering Caves to climb trees you know."

 "Forgive me Gimli," Legolas said as he dropped gracefully next to him.  "I'm afraid I'm not good company at present."

"I can see that," the dwarf said.  "I've come to put a stop to it."

Legolas paused and looked searchingly at his friend.  "Aragorn," he said finally with a frown. "He should not have bothered you.  I am sorry he brought you out so far needlessly."

He turned and began to walk away.  

"Oh no you don't laddy," the dwarf cried.

Running resolutely behind the Elf, he came around and stopped in front of him.  "This is me you're talking to.  We dwarves are smarter than that."  Stopped in his tracks, Legolas sighed and looked down at the book in his hands.

"Aragorn is worried about you," Gimli said slowly.  "We all are.  The others may have let you wallow in your misery, but I know you better than that."

Looking up determinedly at the Elf, he placed a hand on his arm.

"You've hidden yourself away so that they don't see you grieving," Gimli continued.  "But you're made of flesh not stone."

Legolas looked at his friend as the painful grip that had held onto his heart for so many days began to loosen.

"Your lass… she's alive.  She may be a bit soft in the head but she's alive nonetheless.  So… stop mourning and go save the woman you love… otherwise…" he growled threateningly, "I'll be forced to do it myself and it's entirely possible she'll fall in love with _me_ instead."

Legolas felt a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth.   "Gimli," he said quietly.  "You are a wonder of Dwarvish psychology.  What would I do without you?"

"Probably be very Elvish and fade away to nothing," Gimli said with relief.  "Lucky for you I've learnt to love your pointy-eared ways."

"Yes…" Legolas agreed as he smiled for the first time in days.  "Very lucky…"

**

"Arienel… you're sure?"

Aragorn turned from his pacing and sat down opposite his wife.

"Oh yes," Arwen said taking his hands lovingly in hers.  "Very sure. Did she not tell you?"

"She may have," Aragorn admitted. "I was too concerned about getting her back onto her bed to listen to the name she gave me."

He looked hopefully into his wife's beautiful eyes.  "If that is the case, then it changes everything," he said.  "If she is using her pet name, then perhaps she will in time remember who she is."

Arwen looked down at her husbands hands without responding.

"What is it?" he asked tensely.  "What do you see?"

She breathed in and looked up hesitantly.

"Huine," she said quietly, closing her eyes.  "Tumba huine... ta naa n'sanya."

Aragorn looked at her without understanding.  "What do you mean?"

Arwen looked at him sadly.  "I do not believe Valraen has lost her memory," she said.  "I believe that it was taken.  All but what little seems to have remained in the furthest corners of her mind."

Aragorn stared at her in shock.  "Taken! How? By whom?"

"I do not know," she admitted.  "If my father was here or my grandmother, perhaps they would know but my skill is too poor for such things."

She sighed as she folded his hands in hers more tightly.  "What I do know Aragorn is that the hate I see in her eyes when she looks at me, is not Valraen's.  And if we do not discover whose it is, I am afraid that we will lose her forever."

**

"You… you wanted to see me my Lord?"  

A tall dark shadow towering in the corner turned towards the small figure teetering uncertainly in the doorway.  His eyes glittered strangely in the candlelight.

"Yes Fidelian… I did."

He moved towards the warlock, his steps menacingly slow.  Stopping uncomfortably close to him, he placed a thin hand on Fidelian's shoulder.  The small Easterling snivelled weakly at the unwelcome touch.

"The Captain," he said quietly.  "Is missing."

Fidelian shifted uncomfortably.  "Missing Master?" he said.  "No.  She cannot be miss…"

He whinced painfully as sharp nails bit into his shoulder.

"And yet Fidelian," the Master said.  "She is.  I cannot connect with her."

He leant his head in closer until his lips almost touched the small magician's dirty ear.  Stringy blonde hair fell darkly across his face.  "You will find her for me," he said.  "Unless you want to lose this ear also."

Releasing him, the Master turned back towards the candlelit table in the corner.

Fidelian moaned nervously as he shuffled from foot to foot, uncertain whether to move or stay.

"Go," the Master said over his shoulder as he lent down to his work. "Find me Arienel."

**

Elvish translation c/- The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)

Huine = Darkness

Tumba huine = Deep darkness

Ta naa n'sanya = It is not normal


	7. Disconnection

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Many thanks for those of you who continue to review!  Your feedback has been great!  Here is Chapter 7.  Hope you enjoy it.  (Aramis, you'll notice I've taken your advice and tried to make it easier for you guys to visualise what I'm describing.  Thanks for your input!)

  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

Chapter 7:  Disconnection 

On the banks of the Sea of Rhun, high up in a dark cavern of a particularly rocky mount, Fidelian, the Master's one-eared conjuror, sat brewing his potion.  The evening breeze brought a misty spray from the waves below into the cave in intermittent bursts, sprinkling the short mage's filthy black robes and causing him to alternately hiss and swear.  

"Lose an ear… lose an ear indeed… damn these waves… damn them…  I'll show him an ear… yes I will… yes…"

Thus murmuring to himself, the Easterling pottered to and fro amongst the many shelves looking for the various herbs he needed.    The cavern, visible through a small hole in the side of a mighty mountain, was linked to the outside world via a series of labyrinth-like passages and caverns that led down to the other side.  It was poor as far as a home went, but then again he had no choice.  After the fall of Sauron, all of them had been forced to escape into the mountains.

In one of the larger caverns, that had been turned into a comfortable room, was the Master himself and spread throughout the rest of the complex underground system were whatever deadly Selenar were not on assignment.  The Mage himself rarely saw them - his only contact with the outside world was through the forbidding man he served - but he knew _of_ them.  Oh yes… he certainly did that.  Was it not he who had found the potion that enabled the Selenar to psychically connect with the Master?  Was it not he who had divulged its secrets?  Little gratitude did he now receive for his pains.

Fidelian ran a dirty hand through his thinning black hair and squinted his beady eyes in the dimming candlelight.  _The potion_ _should not have failed_, he thought crossly.  _It should have connected them permanently.  If it did not, then it is certainly not my fault. _

How he was expected to reconnect the Master with an absent Selenar was beyond his comprehension.  _After all…_ he reasoned with himself, _it was not my concoction and the one who would know is long dead.  _He made a huffing noise through his nose as he remembered the old sorcerer he had stolen the secret from.  Apprenticed to the old man at a young age, Fidelian had waited a long time before his teacher had invented anything of any use.  When he finally did, Fidelian had wasted no time in killing the old man and taking the secret.

Now of course he wasn't so sure he had made the right decision.  

"I must find the secret or I must lose the other ear…" he reminded himself.  "And we don't want that… no indeed…"

**

In her room in the palace of Minas Tirith, Arienel sought the dark silence.   She sat cross-legged upon her bed and stretched out with her thoughts.  Over the past week she had tried repeatedly to reconnect with the Master.  Truth be told, she had missed his guidance and felt the need of it, now more than ever.  Time and time again however, she had gone part way down the path only to be inexplicably blocked.  

_Master…_ _Master… hear me…_

Once again, she visualised the thought leaving her and traced its path through the ether.  Once again it travelled quickly from her mind, and once again, instead of connecting with the piercing black stare she was used to, it reached a point of light and stopped dead.

Arienel opened her eyes and felt a whirr of panic start in her gut.  Something was wrong… very wrong.  She had never before heard of a disconnection – had never even known such a thing was possible.  She could not remember a time when she could not access the Master's guidance when she needed it.  It filled her with a dread she did not want to examine.

Closing her eyes, she made another desperate attempt.  The same path; the same point of light.  Collecting her wits, Arienel moved mentally closer to the point of light.  Perhaps if she could discover the source of this blockage, she could move beyond it.  Perhaps it was a test.  Such things were not unknown.

So she moved her mental body closer and focused on its centre.  As she neared it, she felt rather than saw a warm heat moving through the light in concentric circles.  Forcing down an uneasy feeling of foreboding, Arienel moved into the tunnel being formed by the waves.  An ethereal blue flowed through her.  Ahead she saw a figure washed in white.  _This must be the source, _she thought with a jolt.  She focused now on the face of the figure in front of her.

Arienel moved closer still until the blue white light that surrounded her thoughts was almost painful.  She focused her mind, the pressure building to a point she felt sure she could not survive.  The figure before her looked up at her and their eyes met.   Her eyes…

Wrenched from her trance by an enormous spasm, Arienel cried out in pain and horror.  She clutched her head as she fell onto the floor beside the bed.  With a shaking hand she pushed back her now damp hair and lifted herself weakly to her feet.

_No,_ she thought as she tried to move towards the window at the far end of the room.  _It cannot be true… It cannot be true…_

It was me… I am her… She is me… 

Arienel struggled in vain to hold onto her slipping sanity, slidding quietly to the floor again as another spasm shook her.__

_I am Valraen_, she thought fleetingly.  _Legolas__…I am Valraen…_

And then the madness took her.

**

A mile away, Legolas and Gimli travelled towards Minas Tirith.  Riding together on Arod, like in the old days, they had spent the better part of the afternoon in pleasant companionship.

Gimli was part way through reminiscing about the battle of Helms Deep for the third time when Legolas slumped over suddenly in his seat.

"Legolas!" Gimli exclaimed in surprise.  "Are you all right lad? I didn't think my storytelling was that bad."

"Gimli," Legolas replied weakly as he brought a pale hand to his chest.  "Something terrible has happened."

Knowing better than to question Legolas' elvish senses, Gimli frowned with concern.  "Is it the King?" he asked urgently.  "Has something happened to him?"  

"No," Legolas said, a note of rising panic now sounding in his voice.  "It is Valraen.  I heard her cry out to me. Gimli, something has happened to her.  I have come too late!"

Kicking Arod sharply in the flanks, Legolas sent the horse flying into the forestland.

"Slow down lad!" Gimli cried as he struggled to keep his place on the galloping stead.

Legolas could not answer.  A painful lump had formed in his throat and he found he could not speak.  Forcing his focus onto the speeding horse beneath him, Legolas tried to still the frightened buzzing of his thoughts and tried not to think of the last time he had felt this way.

_I have come too late, _he thought._  I have come too late_.  

_Once again, I have come too late._

**


	8. Into the abyss

**Synopsis:   
  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

OK… here is Chapter 8.  Very sorry to keep you guys hanging for so long but I've been on holiday and subsequently got sick with a head cold.  Am all better now thankfully, so here is the next installment.  Please read and review, but most of all… enjoy…   
  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tolkien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory

**Chapter 8: Into the abyss**

The Master watched the small hunched figure kneeling before him in the dimming light of his cave and smiled. "So Fidelian," he said with a menacing smile as he approached the mage and clasped a hand onto his shoulder. "Am I to have the other ear?"  

"S-sadly m-master…. I fear I m-must disappoint," Fidelian managed weakly as the taller man's thin fingers bit into his arm.

A cold laugh blew over the small magician like a blast of icy wind. "Humour Fidelian?  I did not know you were capable of it.  I am pleasantly surprised."

The Master pulled him up by his robes.  "So," he whispered keenly, placing an arm around the small mage's shoulders and steering him towards the oak table in the middle of the room.  "You have found me Arienel."

Fidelian faltered.  "Ah… not exactly Master," he began, moving backwards imperceptibly.

He watched as the expression of the man before him darkened and thought to himself in that moment that perhaps only the Dark Lord Sauron or the legendary Witch King of Angmar would have frightened him more.

"What precisely," asked the Master coldly as he wound his long, thin fingers slowly around the mage's scrawny throat, "does that mean?" 

Fidelian's eyes bulged slightly at the pressure around his oesophagus.  For a thin man, the Master certainly did not want for strength.

"I k-know h-how," Fidelian choked out as he struggled feebly against the fingers working at his throat. "I know how to find her." 

He gasped as the pressure was released abruptly.   "I have reconstructed the potion," he explained.

Careful to hide the resentment he felt, Fidelian glanced surreptitiously at the grinning man before him.  Not for the first time, he found himself wondering about the man's past.  The Master's pale and scared features still held the ghostly shades of what would have been a youthful beauty.  With dark blonde hair and blue eyes, the Easterling could have sworn that the Master was one of the men of the West.  Would have sworn it if he didn't know any better.

"Excellent," the Master whispered. "Excellent.  You have outdone yourself, Fidelian."

***

The sun was in the last stages of its slow descent from the sky by the time Legolas and Gimli finally reached Minas Tirith.  With Gimli following behind and grumbling about 'blasted Elves with their horses and trees', Legolas had bypassed the palace and was heading straight for Valraen's room.  A blind panic had taken hold of him and he could think of nothing but from the woman he still loved more than any other being in Middle Earth.

Having left Arod by the White Tree, he was part way across the central court when he heard a cry.  

"Legolas… _feitha_!"

Legolas stopped abruptly and turned, causing Gimli to collide into him and curse roundly in Dwarvish.  Unfazed, Legolas looked towards the direction of the voice and saw Arwen running urgently towards him.

"Arwen," he said immediately, moving towards her and grasping her upper arms in a tight grip.  "Where is Valraen? Manke naa re?"

Showing a complete lack of surprise at his question, Arwen moved a hand to her breast and tried to catch her breath.  "She is in the Houses of Healing," she said in a rush.  "Aragorn is with her now.  I found her on the floor in her room when I went to visit her today."

Grasping him by the arm, Arwen looked urgently into his eyes.  "Legolas," she whispered desperately.  "I could not reach her."

Legolas looked at her in horror. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas placed a hand against Arwen's cheek with more reassurance than he felt.

"Sana amin a' re, Arwen," he whispered.  "Please."

***

Within the Houses of Healing, Aragorn sat alone beside his cousin holding her pale hand.  The warden of the houses had brought the King the _athelas_leaves and had left as requested.  The leaves now sat abandoned in a bowl of steaming water by the bed head.

Over the last hour Aragorn had used all of the healing powers he was blessed with but to no avail.  He had tried calling her over and over again from the dark madness which had overtaken her without success.

What response he did receive was without form or meaning.

Aragorn brought his cousin's hand to his chest as she let out another plaintive cry.  "Cousin," he said gently.  "I'm here.  Come back to us."

Valraen began to weep.  "Nooo…" she cried.  "No… don't… let go…"

She looked at Aragorn.  "Where is it?" she asked desperately.  "Where is it?"

Looking at the hopeless confusion in his cousin's eyes, Aragorn felt tears forming behind his own.  "Where is what love?" he asked gently.  "Valraen, what are you looking for?"

"Cardolan?" she asked.  "Is that you?"

 "Cardolan is dead, remember cousin?" An old pain clutched at his heart as he thought of his old friend.  "He died in battle many years ago…"

Valraen let out a blood curdling scream and Aragorn felt the hair on his neck rise.

"NO!" she cried in pain clutching the hand that held hers in a sudden vice-like grip.  "Please no… please… please don't… you mustn't…"   Aragorn felt the last remnants of his hard-earned composure begin to disappear as she started to convulse again.

"Valraen," he said desperately.  "Tell me what to do!"  He watched helplessly as his cousin's convulsions grew worse.  They would subside eventually, he knew, but he also realised that as time went on they were getting progressively worse and that despite all his efforts, he had achieved nothing.

_Legolas_, he thought despairingly, _where are you?_

***__

Valraen was trapped in a wilderness of darkness.  She knew neither where she was nor where she was going.  Branches from the dark, towering forest trees tore through her hair and clothes like the hands of clutching madmen.  

_"No," she cried as another branch tore into her moonlit skin. "No… don't…let go…"_

The more she tried to escape however, the more trapped she became.  Taking out her knife, Valraen tried to cut through the dense foliage but found herself instead suddenly lifted and deposited into a dark cavernous hole beneath the forest floor.  She tried desperately to claw her way out of the rotting pit but was prevented by the roots that grew suddenly across the entrance.

She reached again for her knife but realised with dismay that she had lost it.  Dropping to her knees, she searched in vain amongst the worm-ridden mud.  "Where is it?" she whispered desperately.  "Where is it?" 

She was in the process of searching through the decaying leaves when a sudden movement brought her to her feet.  She narrowed her eyes, looking anxiously for the source of the noise. 

A figure moved forward into the gloomy light.

"Cardolan," she whispered uncertainly.  "Is that you?"

The tall, thin figure moved towards her, leering viciously.  "A..r..i..e..n..e..l…" it breathed.  "My dear, dear Arienel…"

Valraen gasped in horror as the features of the being before her became clear.  Backing into the wall behind her, she closed her eyes and turned her head as the man moved close enough for her to smell his putrid breath.  One thin hand clasped her around her throat as the other gripped her skull.  A searing wedge of pain shot through Valraen's brain.

"NO!" she cried.  "Please no…"

But she was helpless to resist the waves of intense pain flowing through her.  "Please…" she begged.

"Please what, my dearest?" said the menacing voice. "I want you to beg me… I want you to scream…"

"Please don't," Valraen whispered desperately.  "You mustn't'…"

"I mustn't," the man said with a cold smile.  "Well now… that's exactly what you said the last time."

He tightened his grip on her skull further until she began to convulse.  "This time however," he said as he drained every drop of memory from her mind, "You are mine."

***

Elvish/ English Translation c/- The Grey Company (_www.grey-company.com_)

Feitha = Wait

Manke naa re? = Where is she?

Sana amin a' re = Take me to her


	9. Before the gates of hell

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Hi All!  Here is Chapter 9 for your reading pleasure.  Thanks to those who reviewed.  

M – I realised when I started writing that the Elvish used by The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com) was slightly different from correct Sindarin but since my Elvish is non-existent, I decided to make a small exception and use GC elvish.  I actually think that 'mellon nin' sounds better than 'mellonamin' (which I use) but I wanted accuracy in syntax and so took the easier way out. Sorry!  (But I'm glad you're enjoying the story).

Also, can I just say that I too feel very sorry for my poor Valraen.  Believe me, it pains me more than you know to see her in such a state.  But… as I am merely relating the story to you as she tells it to me… I can do no more than wait to see with what happens with the rest of you.  She does tell me however that it is a long and harrowing tale (as all true love is) and so to buckle up for the ride. ;)

  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

**Chapter 9: Before the gates of hell**

"NO!"

An unearthly scream spewed forth from the houses of healing and into the halls beyond.  Within the palace walls, those who heard were momentarily disorientated and stopped dead in their tracks.  

The young kitchen hand carrying a pail of hot water carefully down the high-ceilinged hallway outside the chamber felt the hair on her waif-like arms rise.  Saying a quick prayer to all the Gods she had ever heard of, she sped past the room as quickly as her legs would carry her.

The King's Guard standing resolutely outside the door paled beneath his heavy armour.  Holding onto his shield and sword more tightly, he found himself wishing ruefully that he too could move as the young girl flew past him.

Further down, the old wife Ioreth, in the middle of a long-winded converstation with the Warden of the Houses, found herself for once silenced.  The Warden shook his head sorrowfully as Ioreth looked horrified down the hallway towards the source of the scream.

"Not for all the world," the Warden said with a shudder as a young girl sped past him, slopping water on the floor as she went,  "Not for all Middle Earth and all the gold within it would I be in that room now."

***

One person however wanted more than anything to reach the room that Valraen lay in.  Legolas had felt the unnatural scream pierce the air and sink its talons into his heart.  What colour was left in his fair skin had drained away.  Breaking away from Arwen, he ran with all the speed his Elvish blood allowed him into the Houses of Healing.

Even Gimli, now trailing far behind, for once could find no words to lighten the mood and focused intsead on following his friend and the Queen as quickly as he could.  

The site that greeted him when he finally made it into the chamber emptied his lungs of what breath he had left.

"Durin's beard!" he gasped as he stepped inside. 

***

Rows of candles lined the wall behind the high-set bed where the pale figure of Valraen lay, her shallow breathing like the whisper of a distant wind.  The light threw long shadows across her drawn features and her black hair, forming an eerie halo around her head. 

Within the darkened room, the King sat slumped forward with his forehead pressed against his cousin's hand.  Arwen had come to stand quietly opposite him on the other side of the bed, while Legolas stood unmoving behind the King, seeming for all the world like a man caught in a dark nightmare.

Aragorn did not seem to have registered their arrival.

Legolas move forward slowly, his eyes fixed on the woman before him.  His eyes lingered on her features as he noted the faint bruising underneath her eyes and the moist paleness of her skin.

Hesitating for the briefest moment, he place his hand tentatively on the King's shoulder.  "Aragorn," he said.  "Amin naa sinome."  Raising his head wearily, Aragorn turned towards his old friend.  "Legolas," he breathed.  "Thank the Valar."

Looking into the King's bloodshot eyes, Legolas felt the last of his resentment slip away.  "Forgive me my friend," he said quietly.  "I should have come sooner."

Relief flashed across Aragorn's tired features as he stood and placed a hand against his friend's face.  "N'uma Legolas," he said earnestly.  "It is you who should forgive me."

"Tell me," Legolas asked tensely.  "How is she?"

Aragorn's eyes filled with pain as he turned to look at his cousin once more.  "Not well," he said gesturing for Legolas to sit.  "Not well at all."  Aragorn moved across to the other side of the bed and stood beside his wife.  

"I cannot reach her," he said, his frustration evident as he leant against the edge of the bed.  "I have tried everything but to no avail and the more time passes, the worse it gets!"  Pausing as his voice cracked with emotion, he lowered his head briefly before continuing.  

"I do not know what demon haunts her dreams," he said. "But I do know that we are losing her."

A deadly silence filled the room as Arwen placed a protective arm around her husband's waist. 

Legolas sat next to the woman he loved and took her pale hand in his.  "Where are you a'maelamin?" he whispered so that no-one could hear.  "Where have you gone that I cannot follow?"

_If only I could walk in your dark dream,_ he thought_ I would fight Sauron himself to win you back…  if I could only… walk… in your dream…_

Legolas closed his eyes and cursed himself loudly in Elvish. 

"Kaimel'triall," he said.  "Why didn't I think of it before."

Arwen's gaze shot to Legolas, alarm registering in her eyes.   "Mankoi ila," he said gazing steadily back at her.  "I would go before the gates of hell itself to bring her back."  

"Would someone mind telling _me_," came a voice from behind them. "What exactly you're talking about?"  Moving away from the corner where he had been standing silently, Gimli stepped forward into the candlelight and looked at them intently.  "And no more riddles," he said.

"Kaimel'triall," Arwen said quietly.  "Dream walking.  An ancient Elvish ritual…"

"And a dangerous one!" Aragorn interrupted angrily.  "Absolutely not. I would not lose both my cousin and my dearest friend in one go."

"And what, pray tell," said Gimli, cutting Legolas off half-way through an angry response.  "Might dream walking be."

Arwen turned towards Gimli, fatigue and grief showing in her face. "Our ancestors once practiced it long ago.  But," she said, glancing worriedly at Legolas, "It has not been tried in many an age."

Seeing Gimli's uncomprehending stare, Arwen tore her gaze from the Elf opposite her.  "A ritual," she continued.  "To join two psyches as one in order to save one of them from the abyss of grief or madness.  It takes a highly skilled practitioner of the form, one who  possesses all the gifts of the Valar.  It is so dangerous that even my father would not risk it to save my mother.  The risk of losing both is always too high."

"Furthermore," she said, looking once more at Legolas.  "I have never heard of Kaimel'triall with a human.  I do not even know if it is possible."

Legolas felt frustration building as he stood up and looked at his friends.  "Don't you understand?" he said urgently.  "Don't you see?  I have no other choice.  _We_ have no other choice."

He looked down at Valraen again and felt a fierce protectiveness in his very bones.  He watched as her long lashes fluttered against her colourless cheeks and listened to her shallow breathing and realised that he could not lose her again.  He _would _not.  Not while there was still a chance that he could save her.   Not while he lived.

"I will not let her die," he said.  "Not again."

Arwen, Aragorn and Gimli looked at him silently.  Finally, still looking concerned, Aragorn nodded resignedly.

"Very well," he said. "Tell us what you need."

***

_In the dark abyss of her dream, Valraen sat in the middle of a grey desert, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried between her hands.  A wild cyclonic wind blew dirt and sand in billowing clouds around her, covering her in layers of dust and turning her beautiful black hair a dull shade of grey.  The clothes she wore had been reduced to grey rags that barely covered her slender form.  Her bare feet were scratched and bleeding._

_In the distance, a fell voice travelled on the wind._

_"A…r…i…e…n…e…l…  I know what you've done… Arienel.  I know that you've killed.  You are a murderer… Arienel … And you are mine …" _

_Valraen sobbed hoarsely as the wind echoed across the desolate plain._

_ "No… no…"  she pleaded despairingly as she buried her head further into her arms.  "Let me die… please just let me die…"_

_"Die Arienel?__  I think not," the voice said with a manic laugh. "At least… not yet."_

**

Elvish translation c/- The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)

Amin naa sinome = I am here

N'uma = No

Mankoi ila = Why not

Explanation of the word Kaimel'triall 

Needing a word for my 'Ancient Elvish Ritual', I turned to the Grey Company dictionary and simply looked up the verb 'to dream' and the word for 'walking'.

To Dream = Kaimela

Walking = Triallien

Thus Kaimel'triall.

I originally played around a bit with Kaimelar-triallien and Kaim'triallien but thought this sounded bizarre and somewhat like a diseased foot (aka 'Ive got a bad case of the kaimelar-triallien') so I shortened it and voila!

…ahem… (cough)…


	10. Kaimel'triall

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Hi All!  Here is Chapter 10 for your reading pleasure.  Thanks to all those who reviewed.  I apologise for the delay.  I've started my course in creative writing last week and its taken up a fair bit of time (as you can imagine).

Marpessa – Well… at least its not IMpure filth, so it can't be all bad, eh?  Can I make a request for no more flames please.  I welcome constructive criticism with open arms but 'pure filth' followed by no explanation doesn't quite cut it.  'Pure filth because…' would have been much better.  I don't write fanfiction to churn out work of brilliance, I write it to practice the craft of writing.  I admit its kinda cheesy but it's a 'I'm-having-fun-writing-it-and-some-people-have-fun-reading-it' kinda cheesy and I think that at least should be respected.  Nuff 'said.

Aramis – Thanks for your comments (always welcome).  Being from Australia, I write with UK/ Australian English so you'll notice that some of the spelling is indeed different.  E.g. colour/ color, flavour/ flavor, grey/ gray, jail/ gaol, organise/ organize etc.  Hope this doesn't make it too confusing. J

  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

**Chapter 10: Kaimel'triall**

Legolas lay stiller than death across a high wooden platform beside Valraen.  Large white candles, which had been lined up behind Valraen's head, now surrounded the two lovers, throwing an unnatural circle of light across them and casting the rest of the room into darkness.  As the dreamer, Valraen had been dressed in white robes to symbolise the light she would need to find her way back to her path.  Long bell sleeves covered her pale hands, while the skirt, drawn in at the waist with a golden rope, fell low to cover her feet.  As the seeker, Legolas had been dressed in black pants and tunic drawn in at the waist with a leather belt.  With him he took only three things – the bow given to him by Galadriel, his Elven arrows and the green Elfstone of the King.  Legolas had not wanted to take this last one, believing it too precious but Aragorn had insisted.  In his heart he felt that it would help to bring his cousin back.

Only one other figure stood within the circle, dressed now in dark blue robes and looking almost as pale as the two figures lying prone before her.   With her husband and Gimli watching silently from somewhere within the deep black, Arwen dipped her thumbs into a bowl of athelas-scented oil and placed them gently on the foreheads of the two lovers.  

Mindful of the moon-shaped tattoo on the forehead of her cousin, she traced a circle clockwise on each to symbolise the union she as about to assist.  She placed her hands on their heads, closed her eyes and began her quiet chant.  

*** 

Sana lye a'kaimelar… 

From where he lay, Legolas felt Arwens warm hands upon his head.  Relaxing his muscles as much as he could, he forced his focus away from Valraen and on to the voice above him.

Re ya naa yassene a'mori mandu… 

He felt his body becoming heavy as he let Arwen's words move through his mind.

Sana lye a'wanwa… 

A point of light opened up in the dark whorl behind his eyelids as he felt his mind move forwards to the circle Arwen had traced on his forehead.

Re ya naa yassene hisie en kaimelar… 

Relaxing further into the trance, Legolas felt his focus slipping into the light, which had now grown to form a sort of tunnel.  He felt his heartbeat slow until he lost the sense of it altogether.  It was, he thought distantly with the slightest panic, very much like dying.

Sana handelie sen ar' yanwa sen…

Arwen's voice now magnified in his head until he was conscious of nothing but the sound of it.  The light it produced danced in white-blue circles around him.   A soft, pulsing vibration echoed through him, drawing him in.  

Ona ho aut' yassene kard en kaimelar…

Legolas looked to the centre of the light.  Within its dazzling depths he saw a stooped figure.  Valraen.  The pulsing light moved like a heartbeat around him.  He let himself slip forward into the tunnel and felt it close around him in a warm embrace.

Lost as he was to the trance, he did not hear the small voice which came from the back of his mind like a remote dream… tampa Legolas… ta naa nuema!  

Ignoring words he no longer comprehend, he moved rapidly into the channel of light.  He welcomed it until, with an almost perverse delight, he succumbed to it completely.  

Sana manu sen ar'yanwa sen

Aa' atta naa er manka lye veryaya

Legolas' body jerked once, twice and then fell still and silent as the grave.  
  


***

Although she had spoken them quietly, Arwen's last words echoed loudly and seemed to fill the room with a dark threat.  From his place outside the sacred circle, Gimli watched as his friend's breathing slowed and seemed to stop.  

"Aragorn," he whispered edgily.  "I don't think this was a good idea."

Aragorn didn't respond.  Although he could barely make out the King's form on the dark edges of the circle, he could tell that he was deeply troubled.  A sort of tenseness had filled his body, of the sort that Gimli recalled only in battle, and he seemed either unwilling or incapable of answering.

Arwen placed her thumbs once more into the scented oil.  Resting them now onto the still foreheads of her friends, she traced another circle, this time counter-clockwise, to complete the ritual.  She raised haunted eyes to the darkness before her as she stepped back and out of the sacred space.

"It is done," she said.

***

_Legolas was lost in an ocean of light.  Its edges seemed endless, bleeding into his black form and blinding him.  He no longer saw the silent figure before him.  The vortex surrounding him had swept her away.  He felt as if he were sinking and rising simultaneously, as if waves of white carried him across the landscape._

_He needed to move on from here, he realised, or risk being lost forever in this between place._

_'Tua amin, Valraen!' he whispered.  'Show me where you are…'_

_Suddenly, a black hole opened before him.  The light around him seemed to shift and swell, pouring  into the open space, leaving an even more ominous nothing behind.  _

_Gathering his courage, Legolas leapt into the hole, launching himself into the abyss beyond._

***

Fidelian sat in his Master's well-lit cave on the edge of a small jagged rock.  The one-eared magician had been sitting in exactly the same spot for the past day.  Pulling his dirty robes closer around him, he tried not to whince at the sharp cramps shooting up his withered legs.

Before him, the Master sat in front of a large wooden table, with his arms spread and his eyes closed.  Although he had not woken once since taking the potion, Fidelian dared not move.  The Master had told him to keep watch and it was more than his life was worth to do otherwise.  If he had only known that it would take so long, he would have brought along something to eat.

"Aaaarrgh!"

Fidelian jumped as the man before him let out a great shout.  His face, for so long marked only by the briefest smiles or almost impercetible frowns, was now lit with a strange triumphant look.  The magician tried not to shiver at the menacing image it formed.

"So, Legolas Thandruilion," the Master whispered, his eyes moving rapidly beneath the closed lids. "_Lle tula tyal_… welcome, old friend… welcome to the abyss…"

With the hair on his thin neck standing on edge, Fidelian settled carefully back down onto the rock.  _Who or what_, he wondered anxiously,_ is Legolas?_

***

Elvish/ English translation c/- The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)

Tampa = Stop

Ta naa nuema = It's a trap

Lle tula tyal = You have come to play

**The Ritual**

OK… the following is a translation of the ritual, based on a poem I made up. (Hope I didn't stuff up the Elvish too much but don't flame me if I did).

  
Sana lye a'kaimelar  
Re ya naa yassene a'mori mandu   
Sana lye a'wanwa  
Re ya naa yassene hisie en kaimelar  
Sana handelie sen ar' yanwa sen  
Ona ho aut' yassene kard en kaimelar  
Sana manu sen ar' yanwa sen  
Aa' atta naa er manka lye veryaya   
  
Take us to the dreamer  
The one within the dark abyss  
Take us to the lost one  
The one within the dreamer's mist  
Take their minds and join them  
Let him walk within the dreamer's lair  
Take their souls and bind them  
May two be one if each would dare  
  



	11. The child and the crone

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Hi All!  Here is Chapter 11.  Things are going to start getting a bit complicated so I hope that you're able to follow my narrative.  Dreams can be so messy can't they… ;)  Also, I've swapped the italics.  As so much of the next few chapters will be dedicated to the dream-world, I thought it would be easier to read if I put the 'real-world' interactions in italics instead (if you get my meaning)… ahem… anyway, let me know if it gets confusing. :)

Aramis – thanks for your continued support!  We do indeed now have three people linked as one - the Master through the potion, and Legolas and Valraen through Kaimel'triall.  You will notice I am trying to be as descriptive as possible – especially now that things are going to get so interesting. ;)

Nienna – I'm so glad you're still enjoying the story!  I did indeed write the poem.  I think it actually works better in Elvish (where noone can tell that the rhyming was cheesy). :)

EvilAngel – thanks for sticking up for the story in your review!  I'm glad you're enjoying it so much.  It means a lot to know that there are people out there who are getting something out of it.  Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Rhynonwen – well, when you put it like that grin… what else can I do but continue? Am glad you love the story. 

  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

**Chapter 11: The child and the crone**

Legolas was falling; at least that's what it felt like.  He had lost all sense of time.  In the deep black that surrounded him, he had lost sight even of himself.  He felt only that he had been trapped forever and that forever would never end.  The dark tunnel around him seemed to stretch beyond his mind's capacity to comprehend.  His eyes felt blinded by the oppressive shadow.

When he finally landed, it was with a resounding crash.

Feeling the breath force itself out of his seemingly corporeal body, Legolas lifted his head.  He had landed on his stomach in the middle of what seemed to be a desert.  The blinding red sand flew like a tempest around his face.  He lifted himself painfully to his feet and tried to get his bearings.  He felt both insubstantial and uncomfortably heavy at the same time.  Movement seemed difficult in this dream world he had landed in.

The sand storm rose cyclonicly around his black boots and travelled in small torandos up his body.  Legolas shielded his face with his arm as he looked out into the horizon.  A burning yellow sun bled into the sand as blinding rays crept across the barren landscape.

Legolas blinked as the scene before him seemed to shift and waver.  Reminding himelf that he was in a dream and not in the real world, he closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts on finding Valraen, but the chaos around him only increased.

In his rising panic, Legolas didn't feel the black hooded figure coming up behind him to grasp him around the throat until it was too late.

His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he had failed Valraen – again.

***

_Arwen__ had not changed in two days.  Her blue robes now fell in disarray around her slender figure. She sat, as she had been sitting for more hours than she could count, beside Valraen's bed.  Aragorn would have sat with her had she not insisted that he attend to his Kingdom.  Dreading to leave his cousin and friend yet unable to argue with her logic, Aragorn had complied._

_Since the night of the ritual, there had been no movement.  Neither Legolas nor Valraen had shown the smallest signs of life.  Had it not been for their shallow breathing, Arwen would have feared the worst.  They were alive – more, she could not say._

_Gimli stirred from his place behind the Queen.  The Dwarf had fallen asleep during the long hours of their vigil and Arwen had been loathe to wake him from where he sat slumped against the wall.  No-one else had been allowed into the room._

_"Oh, my poor aching muscles," Gimli mumbled as he rose painfully. "I'll never be able to sit properly again."  Stopping as he remembered where he was, he looked at the Queen and the silent figures before her._

_"Still nothing, my lady?" he asked quietly, coming around to stand beside Legolas's bed.  Dark, worry lines, now etched there permanently, ran across his forehead._

_Arwen__ looked up at him with a small smile. "No Gimli, still nothing," she said weakly, "And how many times have I told you not to call me 'my lady'?"_

_The small attempt at humour flickered over them and died away.  Gimli, who would have usually turned red and grinned into his beard at the familiar admonishment, managed only a ghost of a smile._

_Arwen__ sighed and closed her eyes.  When she opened them again she saw Gimli watching her closely, concern stamped across his face._

_"I am alright," she said , reading his expression correctly, "But we cannot help them Gimli.  All we can do is wait."_

_So they waited – and waited._

***

"Wake-up! Wake-up, sleepy-head!"

Dazed by the sharp white light now piercing his sore eyelids, Legolas blinked his way to consciousness.  Confused and disorientated, he sat up painfully and tried to figure out what world he was in now.  The first thing he registered was that he was not dead.  The second was that, judging by the brightness of the colours around him and his dream-like surroundings, he was still in Kaimel'triall.

The colours in fact were so bright that they were dazzling.  He looked around him and tried to determine what this was.  It seemed to him that he was in a small one-roomed cottage. He lay in a small bed at the edge of the room, covered in warm sheets and blankets.  The smell of athelas came to him from the open window behind his head, although he could sense no breeze.   The rustic but cosy room contained only one small table with three chairs, the bed he was sitting on and, what appeared to be, a very old oven lined with an assortment of pots and pans.

Rising out of the bed, Legolas realised that his shirt, tunic and boots had been removed but that he was otherwise unharmed.  His bow, arrows and the King's elfstone lay across the table as if placed there reverently by one who knew of their importance.

"Wake-up! Wake-up! Whoever you are!"  The sound of laughter poured in through the window after the athelas.

Looking out towards the sound of the voice, Legolas gasped and fell back at site that greeted him

A child stood with her chin resting on her arms against the windowsill.   

"Valraen!" Legolas exclaimed as he moved towards her.

The little girl before him giggled as she skipped back out of his reach and into the yard outside.  Her long black tresses fell in full, glossy waves down her back.  Her attire was not the long white dress of an adult, but the small green pant-tunic of a child.  A small golden rope was looped around her brown leather belt, while the handle of what seemed to be a knife peeked out above the edge of one of her small boots.  Valraen – not as she was now, but as she used to be.  Valraen as an eight year old child.

Legolas followed her outside and watched as she skipped in circles around him.  A dense  forest surrounded the entire circumference of the cottage and the small yard.  In the middle of the yard a Mellyrn tree stood in full bloom, it's yellow blossoms falling like rain to form a blanket around the base of the trunk.  Legolas watched with surprise and awe as the falling blossoms replenished themselves, growing instantly on the flourishing branches, only to fall immediately and grow again.

Looking around, Legolas saw that the cottage, built with a light golden stone, was covered in creeping vines covered in small white flowers that rose from the ground and stretched to the roof.  Athelas interspersed with the Mellyrn blossoms in the yard.  The bright sun shown down on them, shimmering off the yellow-white layer and the green of the grass.

He looked back to the little girl who now stood still in the midst of all this colour and watched him curiously.

"Valraen," he repeated. "Where are we?"

The child grinned broadly and looked at him mischievously with big violet eyes.

"Grandma says I know you," she giggled. "Do I know you?"

Legolas felt confused. "Valraen, what –" he began but a voice behind him answered his question.

"She doesn't answer to that name," it said.  "Come to think of it, neither do I.  At least, not for a long time."

Legolas swung around.  An old woman stood behind him where before there had been no-one.  Her short hair was pure white and framed her heart-shaped face in short waves.  Though far taller than the child, she was very slender and she wore a silver robe, drawn in at the waist with a thin, shimmering belt.

"By the way," she grinned, the wrinkled skin around her violet eyes crinkling even further, "It's good to see you again!"

Legolas was stunned.  He opened his mouth to speak but could find no words.

"Valraen –" was all he could manage.

"Well," said the old woman.  "Yes… and no."

"Where am I?" Legolas croaked.

"In our head," the old woman said with a laugh.  "Where do you think you are?"

Legolas closed his eyes briefly and tried to still his muddled thoughts.  If he was going to save Valraen, he needed to gather what wits he had left

"And _who_ are you?" he asked.

"Valraen," the old woman said.  "Or rather, a part of her… 

"And the child?" asked Legolas tensely.

"Also Valraen," said the old woman cheekily. "Or rather, another part of her."

She looked at Legolas shrewdly.  "You," she said, "Are Legolas, are you not?"

"Yes," Legolas said.

"Well then Legolas," said the crone, as all humour faded from her face, "Once we were one, but when the dark man came we shattered and became many.  You are looking at the final two remnants of our spirit; the only two parts that have managed to survive the shadow that plagues our soul."

She looked at him intensely.  "We saved you from the dark man before he could harm you and brought you to this place – this haven – but we have run out of time.  We are in danger, and if we are lost, then all and everything that is the woman you love is lost with us.  Do you understand?"

Legolas looked at the child and the crone without flinching.    
"I understand," he said. "Tell me what to do."

***


	12. The great mountain

**Synopsis:   
****  
**In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Hi All!  Here is Chapter 12.  I am so terribly sorry about the delay.  My studies are getting the better of me.  Hopefully this chapter will not be as confusing.  My love and thanks to those of you who are continuing to read the story.  As always, please read and review!!  (We are heading into some majorly dark themes and over the next chapters will finally see some Legolas and Valraen action.  It'll be worth it, I promise!).

  
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

**Chapter 12: The great mountain**

_Fidelian had lost count of the hours.  Unwilling to risk the Master's wrath, he had made his home on the small rock he sat on for the past week.  He ate and slept there, knowing that disobedience was more than his small life was worth.  Rising painfully from his crouched position, he shifted hesitantly closer to the tall, thin man before him._

_The Master was as he had been for days now.  Since the small explosive cry he had let out three days ago, there had been no further movement.  The candle that sat before him had burnt to the table and Fidelian had been forced to replace it.  Its meagre flame reflected eerily off the Master's face, throwing the scars there into sharp relief. Blonde, stringy hair clung heavily to the Master's thin  head.  _

_Fidelian's hand moved automatically to his severed ear.  Here was the face that haunted his nightmares.  Was there a man under all that, he wondered.  Was he a man at all?  Unaware of his movements, Fidelian now edged  his face closer, peering with watery eyes into the Master's closed features.   The eyeballs moved rapidly back and forth underneath the pale blue lids, shifting the large scar that ran from the tip of the right eye to and fro. It ran across his cheekbone and through his lips, severing them like a pale blue river. Fidelian found himself drawn to the terrible face.  It had a kind of faded beauty._

_Quite abruptly, the candle flame expanded, throwing a menacing  shadow across the table, and then flickered and died._

_Fidelian let out a small cry of alarm and stepped back, tripping over his robes and falling onto the dusty ground..  Looking upwards, he stared, horrified, as the features of the Master drew back into a  stretched grimace and then froze.._

_Fidelian sidled quickly back to his place on the rock.  God help me, he thought. But somehow, deep down, he knew that God no longer listened._

***

'Legolas, you are not listening.'

Legolas looked across at the old woman. 'What?' he asked vaguely. 'Oh, I'm sorry.  It's this place.  The air itself feels dead.'

They had travelled through the forest, for what seemed like both a moment and an eternity, to reach the place at the edge of the dream.  Although the old woman had told him he would not need them, Legolas had taken with him his tunic and weapons.  When they had finally reached the end of their journey, Legolas had found himself at the base of a great red mountain.  Looking up, he saw that its peek was concealed by a blanket of thick grey cloud.  Bright glimmers of light shone out periodically from its depths. 

The old crone gazed at him sternly.  'It's alright,' she said, 'but Legolas; you must concentrate.  You must be prepared for what you will face.  Once you are in there, I cannot help you. '

'I know.  I'm sorry,' Legolas said. 'Go on.'

'What you are looking at is the entrance to the underworld,' the old woman continued, pointing to the cavernous entrance in the side of the mountain. 'It is there that you will find the shadow that plagues us and the part of Valraen that you must save.'

Legolas looked into the gaping abyss before him.  'The shadow?' he asked, as a particularly large streak of lightning drowned them in light. 'What is it?'  

Something akin to pain flickered over the old woman's face before it settled again into an impassive stare.  'Not what,' she whispered. 'But who.  Someone we once held very dear.'

Legolas frowned  at her but the she shook her head.  'More than that I cannot tell you.  Valraen herself does not consciously know,' she said. 'You must discover for yourself.'

'Tell me again,' Legolas said.  'What part of Valraen I must look for?'

The old woman walked towards the entrance to the labyrinth and placed her hand gently on the edge.  For a moment, she seemed lost thought.  

 'I am not entirely sure what part of us - what part of me - exists in there,' she replied finally.  'I can only guess.  Once we were one and now we are not.   Only by keeping away from this place , have I managed to survive.  I know that I am not the part you seek.  Neither is she.'  She motioned towards the young child who sat playing in the grass behind him.  Although Legolas had insisted she stay behind, there seemed to be no separating her from the old woman; where one was the other would follow. 'We are mere images,' she said. 'Representations of the Valraen that you love. We are real, but insubstantial… phantoms.'  The old woman stared at him, her features unreadable.

Legolas shook his head apologetically. 'I still do not understand,' he said.

'Legolas, look at me.'  The old woman walked purposefully towards him and grasped his face firmly between her ageing hands.  'What do you see?'

Legolas stared at her intently  'I see Valraen,' he said slowly, taking in her soft white hair and her strange, yet familiar, violet eyes. 'Valraen as she will one day be.'  The old woman didn't shift.  Legolas forced himself not to turn away from her deep stare.  Something imperceptible stirred behind it.

'No, wait,' he whispered suddenly. 'I see wisdom.'  A flash of understanding sparked in his mind.  'You are Valraen's wisdom.'

A small smile tugged at the old woman's lips.  'And her,' she said, turning him towards the child, who was now busy picking flowers from around the mountainous rocks.  'Who is she?'

Legolas walked over to the small child and knelt down before her.  She looked up at him shyly and offered up one of the athelas blooms she clutched in her small hand.  Legolas took it and brushed his pale fingers across her soft cheek.  'Innocence,' he whispered.

'She is Valraen's innocence.'  He stood up and looked towards the old woman.

'Yes,' she said, now grinning fully.  'Exactly.  So what is the part that is missing?'

Legolas contemplated the mountain.  All of this was part of Valraen's mind.  All of these things: the mountain, the woman, the child, the forest, the cottage; it was all a part of Valraen.  He stared at the small girl as she skipped in circles around him and at the old woman's wise face as it regarded him calmly.  The part that was missing… what was the part that was lost?  A lightening bolt lit the grey clouds above, bringing with it the answer.

'Love,' he said slowly. 'I must find Valraen's heart.'

The old woman clasped her hands together.  'Good,' she said. 'Very good.  I always did think very highly of you.' 

Energy began to pulse through Legolas' body.  Now that he knew what he was looking for and where he had to go, he was eager to begin the quest; eager to save the woman he loved.  He had just stepped forward, intending to pass into the great mountain, when the old woman's voice stopped him in his tracks.

'It is damaged, you know,' she said. 'At least, as far as I can tell.'

Legolas turned and stared at her blankly.  'Damaged?' he repeated.

'Her heart,' the old woman said quietly. 'She is not the woman you remember, Legolas.  She has seen things… done things, that no –' her voice caught in her throat, as the pain in her features became more pronounced.  'You cannot know what it has been like.'

Legolas frowned at her  'I know she was Selenar,' he said.

'You cannot know, Legolas,'  the old woman insisted. 'You do not know what this means.  But you will be tested, of this you can be sure.  Are you certain you can live with what you will learn?  Are you certain your love for her can survive?'

Legolas stared at her, his eyes bright. 'My love for her will last to the end of time.  Nothing I learn here will change that.'

The old woman looked at him intently.  She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head imperceptibly, as if she had changed her mind on some important thing.

'We shall see, Legolas Thranduillion,' she said finally.  'Let us hope, for my sake, that you are right.'  She reached up and, taking his face between her hands once more, placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.   

She stepped back and took the hand of the young girl, who had come to stand at her side.

Legolas took one long, last look at the old woman and the child.  Both of them part of Valraen, yet neither one the part he sought.  For that he would have to go into the mountain.

He turned towards the entrance before him and, with a last nod to his companions, disappeared into the dark fog beyond.

The old woman, clutching the hand of the young one in hers, watched as the darkness claimed the Elf.  'May the Valar guide you, my love,' she whispered and with that the old woman and the child dissolved into the mist.

***

Valraen had no concept of how long she had sat bound in the dank cave.  Time seemed to drag on forever, leaving her with no memory of any other reality.  A steady drip of dirty water fell from the roof onto a puddle before her in a deep echoing rhythm.  A thin stream of light shown down through the crack in the rock over her head, reflecting waves of light across her pale, battered face.  Bruised shadows had crept out from under her eyes.  She had neither eaten nor drunk anything in what seemed an age.

Her clothes, nothing more than rags, hung limply around her emaciated form.  Her hands and feet were bound in chains attached to the rock behind her.  Blood from her wrists trickled in thick rivulets down her arms.  

'Please,' she whispered hoarsely to the man standing before her. 'Please kill me.  Why won't you let me die?'  The last word ended on a sob that turned into a dry, racking cough.

The shadowing figure before her laughed.   The sound echoed off the walls and into the labyrinth beyond.

'Die, my beautiful… my darling, Arienel?' he said. 'When we are having so much fun?'  He crouched down before her and brought his thin, spidery hand to her face.  'Why would I do such a thing to my best, my most worthy assassin?'

Valraen flinched, repulsed beyond her capacity for reason by his cold, death-like fingers.   'I don't understand,' she sobbed weakly. 'Who are you? What do you want from me?'

The Master ran his fingers across her chin and over her bottom lip.  He inserted his thumb between the cracked edges, opening her mouth to his touch.  Valraen tried and failed to suppress the shudder that moved through her body.

'You don't remember me, Arienel,' he said softly, his eyes focused intently now on her mouth. 'But I remember you… I know you very well.  Very well, indeed.'  He leant in towards her and placed an icy kiss across her parched lips.

'He comes for you, you know,' the Master continued vaguely, tracing his fingers now across her cheek and down her neck. 'He is on his way towards you, right now… as we speak.'  With these last words, he pressed his thumb deeply into the hollow at the base of her throat.  'He wants to save you.'

Valraen began to weep.

'Won't that be fun to watch, my love?' Running his hand down Valraen's chest, the Master grasped a breast painfully between his fingers.  'Won't it be wonderful to watch him suffer and die?  And when he's dead, and the blood is running freely on the ground beneath our feet, I will restore you and you will remember none of it and you will be mine again… my own… my precious Arienel.'


	13. The first task

**Synopsis:**   
  
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?

Hi All!  Here is Chapter 13.  I most profusely apologise for the very big delay in this chapter.  My life has suddenly taken off as I'm in the middle of a move interstate to start a new job, so you can imagine how hard it has been to find time to write.  In addition, I've been working on another short story for an assignment and, well, there you have it.  As I am going to be even busier over the next month, I thought I should get chapter 13 up now to tide you guys over until the next chapter.  It may take a while but I will finish this story – I promise! :) (Ryonwen, this chapter is for you since it was your message that convinced me to put it up now).

Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (mores the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.

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**Chapter 13: The first task**

Legolas forced himself to keep moving as he felt the darkness close behind him.  His breath came out in short bursts as he moved away from the entrance through which he had come.  Behind him, the gaping hole dissolved and closed.  Removing an arrow slowly out of his pack Legolas strung his bow and focused his Elvish senses onto his surroundings.

He seemed to be in a narrow tunnel.  The rocky ceiling hung low, forcing the Elf to stoop his head slightly as he searched the way ahead with piercing eyes.  A dim blue light shimmered in the distance and danced on the edges of the walls. 

Legolas moved forward with cat-like grace until he came to the end of the tunnel.  From close up, the light resembled a bright fire, it's enormous blue flames shooting up from the ground to lick the ceiling.  A ghostly music seemed to rise from the fiery chasm it created and echo around him, reverberating hollowly through the tunnel. 

Legolas felt the hair on his neck rise as a strange feeling stirred in his gut.  The song was Elvish.  'It cannot be_,' _ Legolas whispered to himself.  _It's impossible.  I have not heard that song in a two thousand  years. Not since… _

Moving forward tentatively, Legolas placed his hand into the fire.  It did not burn.

_Impossible._Locking his jaw resolutely, he tightened his bow and aimed it in front of him.  'Hold on, Valraen,' he whispered urgently, 'I am coming.'  And with that, Legolas leapt through the light.

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_Arwen__ shook her head sharply, trying to wake herself up.  Two weeks.  It had been two long, heartbreaking weeks since she had performed the ritual that had sent Legolas and Valraen to an unknown fate._

_She ran a hand over her tired eyes and sank back into her chair.  She had spent every day since that moment wondering whether she had perhaps failed to perform the ritual properly and doomed her friends to an early death.  Neither had moved.  Apart from the occasional whimpering sounds Valraen made, neither had shown any signs of life.  Legolas had not moved at all.  He was a still as a dead man.  Arwen wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek and tried to ignore the pain of the lonely silence.  _

_Gimli, unable to stand the strain, had long since abandoned his bedside vigil and buried himself in the work around the palace. Unable to sleep, and unwilling to leave Minis Tirith, he laboured from dusk until dawn, stopping only once a day to place his gnarled hand on his friend's brow and check that Legolas still lived._

_Arwen__ was sure the shadows that had begun to form under his eyes were mirrored on her own face.  Her evenings were punctuated by restless sleep, filled with ugly searching dreams.  That she slept at all was due only to Aragorn who insisted on keeping watch alone during the night._

_Her husband had not stopped.  Between days spent running the affairs of his kingdom and nights spent watching over his friend and cousin, Aragorn had not rested in days.  If Legolas and Valraen did not wake soon, she feared he would surely collapse, and she with him._

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Legolas landed softly on the forest floor at the other side.  The music, so haunting in the tunnel, was louder here.  Legolas paled as the tune crashed against his mind.  He let his bow drop to his side and stared in disbelief around him.

Greenwood, he was in the Greenwood.  _How can this be?_

Legolas moved forward in shock, staring at the tall, familiar trees surrounding him.  Small fairy lights danced in their leaves where the Mirkwood Elves made their homes.  Bright, incandescent eyes reflected strangely from their depths, leaving Legolas with a strong feeling of being watched.

But something was wrong.  This wasn't right.  The sounds were disjointed.  No birds could be heard.

The music grew stronger as Legolas walked deeper into the woods.  He recognised the song now.  Although it had been almost two thousand years, he would never forget.

His mother's death song.  The lament sung at his mother's funeral.  The poignant sound had brought tears to his eyes then, as it did now.  And if this was his mother's song, then somewhere up ahead would be his mother's funeral pyre.

The moment he thought this, a clearing dissolved from behind the trees.

The pyre rose before him in an ugly inferno, as Elves slithered out from behind the trunks of the trees and gathered around him.   A woman, wreathed completely in black, lay on a plank balanced high on a mountain of wood.  The fire flicked the edges of her covered face. 

Legolas raised his bow once more and swung it tensely around at the ghastly images of the Elves around him.  Each of them brought to mind those he had loved. One misshapen and deformed Elf resembled his own father, Thranduil.  In others Legolas could have sworn he saw his brothers, scarred and orc-like.  There was even one that looked like a very young Arwen, her chocolate hair matted in snake-like threads and her blue eyes dead and empty.  Their black clothes hung like rags around their thin bodies.  They grimaced at him as they surrounded him, their white faces and black lips like the apparitions of unearthly demons.

Legolas stood, horrified, as they began to dance, the lament growing into a cacophony that soon resembled a wailing screech.  His bow was still trained on the Elves whirling past him, but he had not the heart to let loose an arrow.

The screeching became a woman's scream.  Legolas turned sharply towards the pyre and almost gagged.

The woman on the pyre was alive, her short black hair wreathed in flames.  She was sitting upright now and screaming, her violet eyes staring at Legolas in terrified accusation as the skin around them peeled and burned.

'NO!' Legolas cried out, as he sprang forwards. 'VALRAEN!'

But the Elves around him smothered his progress, their scaly hands clawing at his face and clothes as they pulled ever nearer.  A talon-like nail caught Legolas under the eye, leaving a long red welt across his cheek.

'Legolas,' they whispered hoarsely. 'Don't you love us anymore.'  The one resembling Arwen began to giggle, her black lips contorting monstrously.

'Get out of my way!' Legolas screamed, as he let an arrow go.  It hit the Arwen Elf squarely in the face and she fell heavily to the ground, still laughing. 

Legolas flung aside his bow and leapt onto the pile of wood.  He tried to claw his way desperately to the top but a gnarled hand grasped hold of his ankle.  Kicking down with all his might, Legolas felt his foot connect with a jaw with a might crack.  Looking back, he saw his father's image fall away from the pyre with a manic hiss.

But the flames had begun to crawl down around Legolas' hands and he fell, with a painful cry, onto the ground below. He shut his eyes against the pain as his hands blistered and reddened.  The Elves were dancing ever harder now around his fallen form, their screeching and laughing driving painfully into Legolas' brain.  The Elf that looked like his eldest brother leaned over him menacingly and, with an evil smile, pulled him up onto his feet by the neck.

'Don't you love me brother?' it said grinning as it lifted him high.  'Aren't you pleased to see me?'

Legolas struggled weakly as the hand around his throat tightened.  He tried to prise open with his burnt fingers.  What breath he could draw came in short, painful bursts.

'I asked you a question,' the hideous brother-Elf said again, it's face stretching even wider as it grinned.  The mad laughter grew louder.  Legolas closed his eyes once more.  He could not bear to look the creature in the face. He tried in vain to weaken the hold but to no avail. 

'I will always love you brother,' Legolas whispered finally and, with that, he brought his feet up hard against the Elf's chest and pushed with all his strength.   The Elf-creature dropped him with a startled hiss and Legolas rolled backwards out of his reach and over his abandoned bow.

The arrow went straight through his brother's heart. 

The screeching song died.  The other Elvish creatures now faded backwards into the dense and dark woodland, disappearing as surely as if they had never been.

Forcing the image of his dying brother out of his head, Legolas stood painfully and moved towards the pyre.  Withdrawing a long piece of wood, he swung with all his strength at the foundation.  The pyre came apart at the base.  Legolas sprung away from the tumbling wood and watched as the body of the woman rolled away from the burning plank.

'Valraen,' he whispered as he ran over and dropped to his knees beside her.  'Oh no.'

Her face was completely unrecognisable.  The skin had been burnt almost entirely away and the hair had melted away from her scalp. 

The impact of all that he had seen hit Legolas like an arrow and he started to weep, his tears raining over Valraen's wasted face.  A black despair began to steal over him.  He did not feel the forest floor shift until it was too late.

The image of Valraen in his arms faded and disappeared as the sand below him fell away.

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In the distance, the Master stood behind Valraen, her face held tightly between his thin hands.

'Do you see, my love?' he whispered into her ear as he forced her to watch the Elf disappear through the quicksand.  'Do you see how much he loves you?'

Valraen closed her eyes as the tears ran down her face.  The chains around her hands twisted painfully.  She did not know who the Elf was, but something in her had cried out for him as she watched him struggle to free the ghastly image of herself.  She had felt sorrow through to her very soul when his hands had burned.

'He is coming for you,' the Master continued behind her.  'He does all this for you.  Are you worth it Arienel?  Murderer that you are, are you really worth it?'

Valraen held back the sob that threatened to break from her throat.  'Let him go,' she said to the tall, thin man behind her.  'You can do what you want with me, but let him go.  He does not deserve this.'

The Master's derisive laugh rang harshly through Valraen's ears.  'Oh no, my dear,' he said.  'I think not.'  His fingers tightened around her face.  'I want him to suffer.  He deserves to suffer.  Before we are done, you will watch him swim in blood.'


End file.
